Unprofessional
by thisisironic
Summary: Who do you think he'll bother first?


**Title:** Unprofessional  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and my empty pockets are proof of no profit.  
**Fandom & Pairing:**_The Office_ - Jim/Pam  
**Summary:** "Impossible, huh? I didn't think it was supposed to be easy."  
**Word Count:** 827  
**Notes:** I wrote this simply because I wanted to write a Jim/Pam fic. A fluffy fic that really serves no purpose other than them being cute and happy with each other. So if you're not in the mood for fluff then, obviously, move along. Otherwise, enjoy!

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It was 3:41 PM on a Tuesday. The tick-tock of the clock hanging near Michael's office started to echo painfully, like being stuck at the top of a church tower. Jim pushed away from his desk and work and walked over to the receptionist counter before his head exploded.

The cameras followed him, so Pam only glanced up at him when he tapped his fingers on her desk. "Checking your messages?"

"Yeah," he sighed, flipping through the slips too fast to allow even knowing what was scribbled on them before arching forward to see her screen. They spent a quiet moment talking about her next move in the game of solitaire before Michael exited his office. Hands shoved into his pockets, his wide eyes looked around the room. Both careful not to make eye contact, Jim and Pam narrowly avoided him coming over for the time being as he stalked over to the accounting corner.

"So," Pam cleared her throat. "Who do you think he'll bother first?"

"When he comes over here? You, of course." Jim answered immediately, grinning. "He'll make some lewd comment about looking down your shirt and try to get me to join in. And when I won't he'll ask me why not, or he'll blame it on you prudishly not showing off your cleavage. Which is very unprofessional of you, Beesly, I must say."

Pam still didn't look up from the screen, trying her hardest not to smile. "No, I'm thinking that since Ryan's gone and he doesn't have an office boyfriend anymore he'll be looking for a replacement."

"Yeah, right," Jim laughed--quietly, so Michael wouldn't hear him and want to come over to get in on the joke and lead to a 'moment' that the cameramen would just _love_--and popped another candy in his mouth.

"Okay, maybe not. I guess it's stretching it to think you'd be anywhere near the top of his list of replacements."

Jim cocked an eyebrow at her when she finally tore her eyes away from her game of solitaire. "Are you implying I'm not boyfriend material?"

She shrugged, innocent as she could ever be. "I just think you have a lot of tough competition, Halpert."

He turned, leaning his weight against the desk to look around the office. After a moment of narrowed, searching eyes and pursed lips, he turned back to her with a face filled with disappointment. He slumped against the desk dramatically, "I guess you're right."

"Facing the truth is the first step on the path of healing."

"Of course, of course. I just...have to accept that I'm no Kevin, you know?" He pretended to get emotional, wiping away an imaginary tear. "I keep trying to emulate him, but it's...fruitless and pathetic."

Pam nodded solemnly, "You should be put out of your misery."

"I can overdose on these chocolates, maybe." Every ounce of disappointment fell away as a smile touched his lips. An intimate smile, one that the cameras might catch but no one in the office would. It was _their_ smile.

"Instead of returning to your desk to work? How unprofessional of you."

"Says the prude."

"It's a wonder why we haven't been fired yet."

"Because this is Dunder Mifflin. Stuff like that's encouraged, of course."

"Oh, of course," she nodded, and then grinned from ear to ear when he reached over the counter and placed yellow candies he saved for her in her palm.

"Eat up, Beesly. We're encouraged to consume _insane_ amounts of sugar during our workday." He did his best to look ecstatic. "Otherwise we might die from boredom."

"Which would be tragic, because then I wouldn't be able to drag you to see the _Pirates_ movie with me tonight."

"Oh, right, I forgot about that."

Pam shook her head simply, "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," Jim laughed, and then they fell into comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke up, voice soft. "And then maybe...dinner afterwards? That way, over a good meal, I can make fun of Orlando Bloom while you defend him and--"

"Wha--I'm...?" They both turned to see Michael stopping in his tracks, pretending to be embarrassed for them, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk in on you two making plans--"

"It's alright," Jim cut him off, praying it wasn't too late to stop the avalanche.

But it was, Michael snorting halfway through as he finished. "To..._do it_!" He glanced around the office, expecting a ruckus at the phrase, and got only a few quiet glances --and a scolding one from Angela, but mainly for him interrupting her work--and silence in response.

"Okay..." Jim gave a look to the camera before tapping his fingers on Pam's desk in goodbye. Pushing away, he said over his shoulder--knowing if he looked it'd only spur Michael on further--to her: "Talk to you later, prude."

_fin_


End file.
